


To Have, But Not to Hold

by Seascribe (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Seascribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is sick and tired of the Winchester brothers dancing around each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have, But Not to Hold

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt over at round 3 of Blindfold SPN.

Sam watches a little too closely as Dean licks buffalo sauce off his fingers. Dean groans Sam’s name when he jerks off in the shower. Castiel sees it plainly, how much they want each other. For God’s sake, _Zachariah_ sees it. It can’t be possible that they’re unaware of it, they just need some reassurance that it’s acceptable. And who better, Castiel thinks, than an angel of the Lord to provide it? He knows a great deal about human sexuality and romance, thanks to Dean’s educational programs and helpful lectures.

He starts out subtle. “Knew you’d make me proud!” Dean crows, slapping Castiel on the back when he catches him buying a vibratory device on the internet. “Go get her, tiger.” When Sam finds the device in his duffle bag, he coughs awkwardly and asks if Cas wants his own backpack or something. He should have known that subtle wouldn’t work with the Winchesters.

He tries more direct approaches. He helps Dean’s towel to slip when he comes out of the shower, and Sam’s eyes widen and he quickly looks down at the laptop. He nudges Dean awake right before Sam orgasms into his fist, biting back his brother’s name. And yet, they continue to avoid each other’s heated glances, ignoring the too-long pauses, pretending not to notice touches that linger just slightly too long, too close. Castiel is getting impatient.

Dean is cleaning the guns when Castiel has finally had enough. Sam is on the laptop, but he isn’t researching--his eyes are on Dean, watching his quick, capable hands, his tongue sliding over his lips as he concentrates. Castiel hears his breathing speed up. Dean is pretending that he doesn’t feel it, but Castiel knows better, can read the self-conscious set to his shoulders and the way he shifts to accommodate his arousal.

“Dean. Put the gun down.” Dean glares at him in surprise, but Castiel says mildly, “Do it,” and Dean does. Sam closes the laptop without being told. Castiel smiles.

“Sam, Dean would like for you to suck his dick.” He names the act the way the men in Dean’s education programs do. He thinks the Winchesters will be more comfortable if he uses their own vernacular.

“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean growls. Sam makes a doubtful noise.

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Castiel says. “I do not lie. Sam?” Sam looks to his brother for confirmation, permission, reassurance. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are hazy with desire.

Dean wavers. Castiel comes to his side, silent and smooth. His hands are on the buttons of Dean’s shirt before either brother can say anything. “Come here, Sam.” Dean’s nostril’s flare; he is panting like a winded horse.

“Sammy, don’t--you don’t have to--”

Castiel smiles as Sam leans in and kisses Dean. “I want to,” Sam says. Castiel takes Dean’s hand gently, and threads it through the shaggy hair at Sam’s nape. He finds he likes directing them. It brings a warm glow to his vessel’s belly.

Dean groans, and pulls Sam down into another, harsher kiss--Castiel can see his teeth pulling at Sam’s lower lip. He slides his hands around Sam’s hips and eases his jeans open, sliding them down with his boxers, careful not to snag the elastic on Sam’s burgeoning erection. Then he does the same for Dean, guiding Sam’s hands to help shift his weight as Castiel strips him.

“Sam. Go down on your brother.” Sam obeys, pausing on his way to graze Dean’s nipples with his teeth and to suck a bruise into the thin skin over his hip. He teases, kisses the head of Dean’s dick, licks a stripe up the underside, takes just the tip of it into his mouth and sucks hard.

  
“There will be plenty of time to tease later,” Castiel murmurs. Dean’s ass writhes against the bed, and Sam follows Castiel’s unspoken directive, swallowing Dean down. He gags a little around Dean’s helpless thrusts, and Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s hip, keeping him still. “Gently, Dean.”

Dean moans. “God, Sam, so good, Sammy, I wanna--” Sam looks up at him through his hair, shiny lips still wrapped around his cock. His eyes are eager and curious.

“Tell Sam what you want to do,” Castiel says.

“Wanna--I wanna fuck you, Sammy, open you up and just--god _damn_ it, wanna bury myself in your sweet little ass.”

Sam moans around Dean’s dick, his hips grinding desperate little circles against Dean’s thigh.

“Do you want him to do that, Sam? Want him inside of you?” If Castiel had needed to breathe, he thought he might be very well have been panting by now. Sam moans again, an affirmative, sliding off of Dean’s dick with a soft pop to say, “Yes. God, yes.”

The lube from Dean’s duffle materialises beside Dean’s hip. Castiel helps Sam arrange a pillow beneath his hips, gently pulls his knees back to give Dean access. “Go slowly, Dean,” he instructs. “Get him slick and dripping. Sam, tell him when to add another finger.”

Sam’s face crumples a little, and Dean says, “Okay, Sammy?” Sam nods, forcing his breath to even out.

“More, Dean, please--” He whines, high back in his throat, and Castiel smooths his hair gently. They are...beautiful. He has always know the ferocity of their love for one another, the violent, destructive need. Here is tenderness and discovery, sweet give and take, a softer side to them he has not seen before.

“Spread your fingers a little, Dean.” Dean does, looking intensely at Sam’s face so he knows when to stop. “Good, good.” A bead of sweat rolls down Dean’s forehead, and Castiel swipes it away with his thumb.

“I’m ready, Dean, please, need you so bad, in me, please, _please_ \--”

Castiel nods, reaching out to steady Dean as he lines himself up with Sam’s hole. Sam whimpers as Dean slides in, and Castiel whispers to him to bear down. He guides Sam’s hands to Dean’s hips, helping him to control Dean’s movement until Sam is ready.

“You’re so tight,” Dean breathes, “Fucking amazing, Sammy, so hot, I--I--”

“Fuck me, fuck me, do it, _move_ , come on, Dean, fu--” He trails off into a breathless groan, bearing down as Castiel instructed, rocking slowly into Dean’s thrusts as his body adjusts. They come together like waves crashing, building a furious, inexorable rhythm that has no need of Castiel’s instruction, and he can’t look away. Perhaps he should withdraw, but he simply can’t, he is locked in place by the energy between them. They have forgotten that he is there, eyes locked on each other, drowning in themselves. Castiel guides Dean’s hand to Sam’s dick, straining between them, and neither of them notice that he doesn’t pull away, but helps guide Dean’s strokes until they both climax, loud and perfect. So perfect.

Castiel helps them clean up, gives Dean a damp washcloth to wipe down their bellies and supports Sam’s shoulders as he rolls onto his side so that Dean can wipe away the lube and come dripping down his thighs. Both are exhausted and replete, barely able to keep their eyes open. They curl into each other, and Castiel smiles, perhaps a little sadly. There is no place for him between them anymore, and it is a strange, hard thing, missing something that has only just been discovered.

Castiel pulls the comforter over their shoulders and goes to sit on the other bed, keeping watch in the night.

FIN


End file.
